


Hazelnut Coffee and the Beginning of Romance

by eracitor



Category: DWSA, Deaf West Spring Awakening, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, gays, it's fluff ok, photographer/model
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-16 00:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eracitor/pseuds/eracitor
Summary: Where Ernst and Hanschen are both instafamous, Ernst for his photography and Hanschen for his modeling, and they're considering being business partners. This is a fluff.Note: The bold indicates that someone is signing rather than speaking. It also is not a direct translation, as American Sign Language has vastly different grammar and syntax. The bold is how an interpreter would read their signing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I edit this every now and then if I see grammatical/cultural errors. I kinda wish I had more for this plot but I'm always nervous to commit to more than a one-shot fluff.

Nervously, Ernst stood outside the door of the apartment building, glancing around at the people walking by. They were all walking fast, and most of them had a hipster-esque vibe to them, although Ernst had very little room to judge. He may have grown up on the south side of Chicago, but if only his neighbors could see him now, in a new pair of khakis and loafers of all things. He was trying to portray a level of professionalism, whatever that really was, and "douchebag" was all he could see.

They agreed upon meeting outside, but Ernst didn’t see the guy upon arrival, and he hoped he hadn’t been catfished or that he wasn’t about to get robbed or kidnapped or anything. Ernst was generally very safe, and he had colleagues who had worked with this Rilow fellow before, but Ernst could never be too careful. He hit his best friend Ilse up with a quick text, letting her know he was at the Rilow guy’s house but the actual man was nowhere in sight. 

As soon as Ernst looked up from his phone, though, there he was. He was as handsome as his Instragram pictures, but Ernst thought that maybe you had to be to be a model. He was tall with white blond hair and a few piercings in the top cartilage of his ear. He had high cheekbones and soft eyes, and he was on the thinner side. Although Ernst wanted to write him off as just another model, he loved the energy Hanschen put out immediately. He was confident, borderline arrogant, and obviously intelligent without even speaking. He walked with grace and elegance, like he was raised by some sort of elite group of superhumans.

He walked forward, saying something and jutting his hand out. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Ernst felt embarrassed not being able to hear him.  _ Deaf pride _ , Ernst reminded himself. Whenever he felt embarrassed, he could imagine his dad yelling things and speaking as slowly as possible as if that would somehow a solution to Ernst's deafness.  _ Deaf pride _ , Ernst thought again, trying to think of his buddies from high school instead. It was in high school that he’d found a group of people who really understood him and supported him and where he got really into photography, even shooting for the school newspaper.

Blushing slightly, he opened up his notebook where he had a pre-written message: "Hi, it’s me Ernst Robel. Nice to meet you. Any and all conversations can be written in this notebook." To Ernst’s surprise, though, Hanschen barely skimmed it and waved a hand.  **Hi! My name is Hanschen and this is my name sign.** He circled the letter h around his  temple. **Nice to meet you.**

**You can sign?** Ernst gulped, closing his mouth as a moment earlier it had been agape. It almost made him even more nervous, seeing as it was easier to keep a relationship impersonal if they only communicated on a notebook.

**My mother is deaf.** Hanschen replied casually.  **I’ve heard of your work before, but I’ve never been told that you are deaf.**

**I usually keep my work and personal life separate,** Ernst admitted.

**You usually do...so I'm the exception?** Hanschen smirked, and Ernst’s eyebrows shot up. He shuffled in his loafers for a moment, thinking of a response.

**Not to say that you are, but I do enjoy talking to anyone who can sign,** Ernst replied carefully.  **The Deaf Community is rather small for such a big city.**

**The Deaf people are spread too thinly,** Hanschen shrugged.  **That’s what my mom always tells me.**

**What’s her name?** Ernst wondered, out of habit. While Deaf people don’t know every single Deaf person, it is a rule of thumb that if you’ve seen Deaf people at a bowling league, you will see them again at the bowling league and at the Deaf Club and at most other events.

**Eva.** Hanschen finger-spelled, and then performed her name sign, an E brushed softly against the other fist.  **She works as an architect.**

**I don’t think I know her.** Ernst shrugged.

**What’s your name sign?** Hanschen inquired.

His face tinting a little red, he showed Hanschen, brushing an E hand up against his jaw. 

It was Hanschen’s turn to raise his eyebrows.  **That’s a feminine sign,** he commented bluntly.

**It’s a long story. Are you ready to shoot?** Ernst signed hastily, and Hanschen looked suspicious, but said nothing. He pulled out his key, turning to open up the door, and Ernst whipped out his phone, texting Ilse to let her know he was okay for the moment. Thankfully Hanschen lived only on the third floor so they didn’t have to walk too far up the stairs. When they reached the door, Ernst was struck by how casual Hanschen was in everything he did. Ernst could recall in his own experience dropping his keys or struggling with the lock if in the presence of a stranger for the first time, but not Hanschen. He was smooth and casual, and he really did look like a natural model.

Once inside, Ernst was completely shocked by the aesthetic of his apartment, but not entirely surprised. It was very minimalistic, and everything he did have was shiny and new. Walking by the kitchen, all the appliances glistened, and everything was neat and orderly. The dining table was mahogany and had matching wooden chairs. There was one loveseat made of white leather and a mahogany bookcase behind it with what looked like alphabetized books. There wasn’t so much as a rug on the wooden floor, and when Ernst sat on the loveseat, he was almost worried that he would crease it or make it dirty somehow.

**So I figured this session could be like a test run,** Hanschen signed, sitting next to Ernst on the couch. Ernst nodded.  **I had a permanent photographer before, but he moved to Los Angeles.**

**So would you want me to take his place?** Ernst asked. There were a few clients that he had at the moment that he photographed on a regular basis but they didn’t post on social media as often as Hanschen was known to. Ernst had checked out his instagram, and it had at least a post a day, a constantly growing portfolio. Ernst also posted quite often but none of his photos were of himself, but he supposed selling his product left more of the focus on the picture, not the subject. And boy did Hanschen sell himself well.

_ That sentence somehow doesn’t look right in my head _ .

**Right,** Hanschen affirmed.  **We would share credit, and mutually benefit from posting the photographs on both our instagrams. You get more clients, and I get more modeling gigs.**

Ernst considered this. Of course he didn’t have to decide today, but he was sure Hanschen wasn’t one to wait, with his follower count so high. But it was difficult, because the basis of it was that Hanschen and Ernst would almost become a package deal. Ernst knew; he’d almost ruined his career doing that before. He’d worked with a model who ended up taking credit for Ernst's work. Thankfully, he'd simply deleted all the photos so his former partner had no way to take them, but it made Ernst more cautious of working with someone again.

**Let’s get started,** Ernst suggested, standing up and moving across the room. He took a picture, glancing down at the camera screen to get an image of how the setting looked as is. Unnecessarily dark. He moved to the window, opening the blinds so there was more natural light in the room. He took a few more. It was improved, and Hanschen was noticeably good at modeling. His face and body automatically moved so it was in the best possible light at all times.

Surprisingly, a lot of Ernst and Hanschen working together didn’t even require a whole lot of talking. If Ernst moved or changed something about the shot, Hanschen adapted quickly, as if he too could see the image Ernst was trying to replicate in his head. 

Upon finishing up, Ernst scrolled through the photographs and could imagine Ilse looking at it too.  **They all look the same,** she’d roll her eyes, but Ernst could see every slight body movement between pictures. He could see everything. Deaf people, after all, are People of the Eye. 

**Can I see?** Hanschen asked, standing up and walking over to Ernst.

Ernst shook his head.  **I have to go home and edit them.**

**Only a real photographer would,** Hanschen replied, looking as if he approved this, and Ernst realized that often Hanschen asked things as if there was a right answer he was looking for. While Ernst was glad that he seemed to have pleased Hanschen, this made him a little nervous.

**I really like all these natural shots, but I think you would look a lot better out in the actual sunlight,** Ernst admitted, and he bit his lip before surging forward.  **I think a lot of your photographs are lacking that natural element.**

**Really?**

**Yes,** Ernst signed, trying to keep his confidence up as Hanschen watched him with those unreadable eyes.  **It matches your natural beauty.**

**Truthfully, I’ve never had anyone call me beautiful with absolutely no romantic feelings attached,** Hanschen laughed, and Ernst liked it. It was almost like Hanschen’s built up exterior faded without actually leaving. Like he still felt confident and unreadable, but his laughter was all natural. The way it touched his eyes as well as his lips. 

**I’m all about keeping private and public separate,** Ernst reminded him, shrugging a little bit.

**I distinctly remember you telling me you weren’t going to today,** Hanschen’s smirk returned to his face, as he stepped closer, his hand brushing against to Ernst's on purpose and his gaze probing Ernst’s face for some sort of reaction.

For his own sake, Ernst had no idea how to react. Of course, he was highly attracted to Hanschen, especially after watching him sign. Hanschen was as fluid and graceful at signing as he was at modeling. But even if he wasn’t a CODA and a natural-born signer, he was extremely handsome and flirting with Ernst, who really did want to keep business professional.

_ I may not even lock him in as a client,  _ Ernst reminded himself. While he had a few thousand followers on his instagram, Hanschen had 30,000 and was constantly growing. Hanschen was more popular, handsome, and talented, not to mention hearing. Not that that was a huge factor into anything, especially since he was a CODA, but Ernst couldn’t  _ not _ add that into the equation. 

Ernst stepped back.  **Bathroom?** He asked with furrowed eyebrows. 

**Second door on the right,** Hanschen replied, also taking a step back, a whisper of a smile on his lips.

Ernst scurried into the bathroom, shutting the door and looking around. Again, it was very minimalistic. There was a bar of soap on the sink. Glancing into the shower, there was one bottle of conditioner, one bottle of shampoo, a razor, and another bar of soap. There was no way this guy had a roommate. Everything was impeccably clean, and for a moment, he wished Hanschen had more shit in his bathroom so that he could stall a little longer, like you see in the movies. The protagonist trying on their perfume/cologne or using some of the lotion. As it was, Ernst realized too late that he had spent too much time in the bathroom, and now Hanschen would think he was weird or ill. Ernst washed his hands quickly, practically running out of the bathroom.

Walking down the hall, he glanced in the living room. No Hanschen. He ventured into the kitchen to find the blond-haired man making coffee. Out of habit, Ernst touched his shoulder, letting him know he was there. This made Hanschen smile, which made Ernst immediately flustered.  **Hey,** Ernst signed, his cheeks feeling a little hot.

**I decided to make coffee,** Hanschen informed him, and Ernst was caught up with the way he signed. He was almost as fluid as any deaf person, which made Ernst believe that either Hanschen still spoke with his mother or he knew other deaf people. But even more than that, Ernst couldn’t help but remember how close the signs “coffee” and “making out” were. Ernst pulled at his collar, trying to stay cool.

**What kind is it?** Ernst inquired, although he didn’t really care. He wasn’t much of a coffee snob, except he hated coffee black.

**Hazelnut,** Hanschen signed, fingerspelling h-a-z-e-l and then pushing his thumb between his lips and lifting up. Ernst knew it was just a sign, and he hated when Ilse told him that certain parts of ASL were accidentally sexual ( **Have you seen any of the mouthings?** ) but it almost felt like Hanschen was making it sexual on purpose. Or maybe he was just flirtatious on accident, like some people are.  **You want some?**

**Sure.** Ernst tried to shrug, but of course he could barely watch Hanschen sign  **want** when he made it look like he was squeezing something in the air.

_ I just have a really dirty imagination _ , Ernst tried to convince himself, but the devilish look in Hanschen’s eyes made him beg to differ. As Hanschen poured him a cup of coffee, Ernst couldn’t help but notice again how strategic Hanschen was. The way he leaned so casually against the counter as he tipped the coffee pot into the cup, but while he did, Ernst got an eyeful of that strong back, the delicious curve of his ass (what a cliche too!), and those long legs. When Hanschen gave him his cup, Ernst was about to have a heart attack.

**Tell me a little about yourself,** Ernst took a huge chug of his coffee, burning his tongue and his throat a little but soldiering on. 

Hanschen grinned, blowing on his own coffee. 

_ Of course he would,  _ Ernst thought to himself.

Hanschen set down his cup.  **I was born in Seattle, but my parents moved us to Chicago when I was 14 years old. My mom was always regarded as a Deaf queen so I had a lot of deaf kids I grew up with. My parents have always been rich and unhappily married.**

**Why did you become a model?** Ernst asked, genuinely interested now. Most of the CODAs he knew were interpreters, and he knew it was a difficult task for most CODAs, deciding whether they should serve their community or once and for all to find their own identity, as someone stuck between both worlds.

This time Hanschen laughed.  **I am a walking archetype. I have never had to struggle for anything in my life, and I wanted to keep that lifestyle. Modeling worked perfectly.**

Ernst laughed too.  **I’ve met people like you before.**

**Of course you have. Models like me are a dime a dozen,** Hanschen guffawed, which made you laugh even harder.

Ernst turned up his nose, sipping at his coffee with exaggerated care.  **I spend my entire paycheck on coffee grounds from South America.**

Hanschen immediately played along, a natural at Ernst and Ilse’s favorite game.  **Not me! I spent all my money on a new pair of tits!**

**Oh they look so good! I could hardly see they’re fake!**

**They tend to almost fall off whenever I sweat,** Hanschen admitted.

**But that’s the only way you’ll ever make that cleavage look good,** Ernst arched his eyebrows, staring pointedly at Hanschen’s flat chest, and they both busted out laughing, so hard that Ernst had to set his coffee down. 

**People in our field are so pretentious.**

**We’re hypocrites though,** Ernst reminded him.  **As if we don’t care just as much about how we look or how others look.**

**Yeah, you’re right,** Hanschen nodded.  **What about you? What made you interested in photography?**

**I transferred to the Indiana School for the Deaf in seventh grade. I wanted to fit in. I joined the school newspaper, but I sucked at writing,** Ernst admitted, an amused smile touching his lips.  **They had me try photography, and it turned out I was good at that. Like, really good. I saved up for a long time for my first camera.**

**Do you still have it?**

**Of course! And after I graduated high school, I came back to Chicago for the art scene and the rest is history,** Ernst lied, but it wasn’t entirely a lie. He did return, hoping to find places to take pictures, but he never expected a career out of it. He came back to find his parents, and he came back so that he and Ilse could live together and help each other out. He’d ended up with a career that could help him pay back his brother for all the years of helping him out. 

**Your photography is underrated,** Hanschen complimented him.  **I’m not gonna lie, I set this up to seem like it was a test-run, but I adore your work and would be honored to work with you. You style and eye are to die for, and I know that with how your art is right now, you're going to quickly catch the eye of another person in out industry, and I can't have that.**

Ernst was blown away. He’d never had someone praise him this much. And the sincerity in Hanschen’s eyes, and how arrogant Hanschen was, as though he didn’t have the energy to lie and would have told him he sucked if he felt that was true. But he didn’t. Ernst felt overwhelmed with pride. He really did love what he did.  **All you had to do was ask.**

Hanschen took a few steps forward, slowly and deliberately, looking straight into Ernst’s eyes.  **I want you to take pictures of me.**

**That wasn’t a question,** Ernst signed, his face solemn now as he kept his eyes locked with Hanschen’s. Hanschen cocked his head as if he considered what he should say instead. 

This time Hanschen kept his eyebrows up and he changed the way he signed it.  **Will you take pictures of me?**

**I’ll consider it,** Ernst shrugged, pretending to be cool, and the edges of Hanschen’s mouth flickered, as though he was trying not to laugh. 

  
  
  


Later that night, Ilse and Ernst sat on their couch, eating popcorn and watching a tv show. Ernst was struck with the contrast of his apartment and Hanschen’s. While Hanschen lived alone, Ilse and Ernst shared their apartment with their roommate Greta, who  was a cutthroat bitch who was majoring in business and couldn’t cook to save her life. Homemade was never her style. Ernst’s bathroom was full of all sorts of lotions and soaps and scented sprays and hair products. The back of the toilet was lined with smelly products and the sink counter was about the same. The shower was lined with at least five different shampoos between the three of them and a rainbow-colored rug in the middle of the floor. 

There was a matching decorative rug that was much bigger in the living room where Ilse and Ernst sat. Bookshelves lined the walls and where there wasn’t bookshelves, there were pictures. Their mismatched furniture were mostly the result of mass searching of furniture at the end of driveways, and their large library of books was mostly at the hand of Ilse, who scoured obscure bookshops on a regular basis. The kitchen had Goodwill’s rejects of cups and bowls and spoons and forks and plates and everything you could imagine. It felt a little shabby in comparison to Hanschen’s apartment, but it was home, as cliche as that was.

**So about Hanschen...do you like him?** Ilse wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Her black hair was shaved close to her head and piercings lined the tops of her ears. She currently had on sweats and a tanktop, both grey, despite her usual uniform of all-black clothing.

**I...don’t know,** Ernst tried to evade her, but she clapped in his face.

**You are! You like him!** Ilse signed frantically, nearly spilling the entire bowl of popcorn they had between them. Their favorite show, Brooklyn Nine Nine, was on, but Ernst was missing all of it with Ilse badgering him for answers.

**We are** **_business_ ** **partners.**

**And maybe personal partners too?**

**No,** Ernst insisted, mostly because he didn’t want to get Ilse’s hopes up but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to get his own hopes up. He’d done that before, very often actually, and while it was his mission in life to be as optimistic as he could about everything, Ernst knew better than to be hopeful over something as small as a flirtatious friendship. 

His phone buzzed and he peeked at his phone. Ilse sent him a look, and Ernst sighed. He may know better, but that didn’t stop him from hoping nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I re-read this after someone commented and realized I could add on to this so I am going to. As always, I go back to edit shit constantly so beware of typos.  
> Note: The bold indicates that someone is signing rather than speaking. It also is not a direct translation, as American Sign Language has vastly different grammar and syntax. The bold is how an interpreter would read their signing.

In celebration of their recent partnership, Ernst had (stupidly) decided to throw a party of sorts. Nothing crazy--he and Ilse had worn through their rebellious teenage phase years ago. When you grow up stuck in unhealthy households, you get a taste of escape and you want to keep on tasting.

 **There have never been so many people in our apartment** , Ernst gulped, trying not to look as anxious as he felt. Ilse rolled her eyes. She was wearing a black crop top and tight leather pants, with open-toed heels and earings hanging low from her ears. She had glittery eyeshadow that brought out the green in her eyes and bright red-lipped smile. She was completely in her element.

She ignored him.  **We haven't had a party this big since high school!**

Admittedly, they were wild in their teenage years. Ilse escaped her terrible homelife only to land in the house of other abusive men. Ernst had the safety of his deaf school, but that didn't stop him from remembering the promise his father made when he was taken out of his care: "If I ever find you, I'm going to beat your faggot ass into the ground." His father hadn't found him, thankfully, and he'd found solace in living with his brother once Kuhlbert graduated high school and started college. He liked the deaf school but spending summers terrified in his room was not ideal. In ninth grade, he started spending his breaks in Chicago with his brother.

 **Kuhlbert always hated when we threw parties,** Ilse rambled on.  **Remember, he used to get so mad. But then he would grab a drink and join in. He always joined in. He just liked being a stickler.**

 **And you just liked fighting men,** Ernst teased, and that made Ilse grin.

 **It's what I was born to do,** she smirked. Ernst glanced at the door again. No sign of Hanschen and his close friends. Hanschen agreed to invite his friends to the part as well so they could all celebrate together, and Ernst had met quite a few. Bobby Maler was a model in the business that Ernst actually knew, and he brought with him his deaf sisters, Lillie and Millie, who seem to get along really well with Ilse's friend Thea. Thea, always a very Deaf with a Capitol D person, brought Reginald, a tall, athletic, and deaf man. He was very precise and grammatically careful, which meant he spent a long time studying the extra parts of sign language most likely, and he had a SuperDeafy shirt on, which is the tackiest thing Ernst had ever seen. Nonetheless, he was a great conversationalist about Deaf issues, and Ernst liked him well enough.

Ilse's interest was elsewhere during their conversation, though. One of Hanschen's guests was a very handsome CODA named Melchior Gabor. He was obviously intelligent and confident, with every hair in place and a charming smile and way of signing. He, however, seemed to find the whole modeling industry distasteful, speaking something about how it affects society, which makes Ernst curious as to why he would come to a party centered around said industry then. Ilse's interest wasn't with Melchior, however. Her eyes were on the girl he came with. She was small and pretty, with little ears and small but pouty lips. She was fair, without a freckle in sight but with thick curly black hair. Ilse couldn't keep her eyes off her, despite the girl being attached to Melchior's hip.

 **Introduce me.** Ilse said. She didn't have to tell Ernst who. Ilse didn't shy away from the elephant in the room; she was interested in Wendla, and the fact that she came with her male date didn't discourage her.

 **I don't know her,** Ernst protested, but Ilse gave him a look and he sighed. Nearly everyone at this party was fluent at ASL, which was a relief to see as he and Ilse made their way through the crowd. Too often, he went to parties where not a single person knew ASL and they expected him to lip-read and speak at a moderate rate. Hearing people tended to see deaf people in the media and either assume they're stupid or assume that all deaf people can speak/lip-read/hear even a little like they can. Every Deaf person is different, and lip-reading isn't really a skill as much as it is a guessing game. Even really good guessers only get 30% of what people are saying, they just ad-lib the rest. It's exhausting to do for long periods of times, not to mention intoxicated people never enunciated and never looked straight at Ernst so he always had to crane his neck to try to see the precise way their lips moved. And by the time he did, someone else was speaking and he was lost again. 

He shook his head, puffing out his chest a little. He was very happy to be around people speaking his own language; he was not around those people right now. Now, he was around friends and even the people he didn't know were just as eager to watch his signs and sign back. He wished he could drop a few of his hearing colleagues in this setting, see how good of a job they did reading their signs. 

Smiling, Ernst touched Melchior's shoulder. He was immediately struck by how handsome he was, and he had to stop himself from staring straight into his clear blue eyes. He gulped, his smile faltering for a moment, before he brightened again.  **Hi...again!** he grinned, gesturing to Ilse.  **This is my friend I-L-S-E, this is her name sign.** He demonstrated, the I-love-you sign brushed against his chin. 

Wendla smiled politely, and Melchior waved hello, eyeing her demeanor for a second that brings out the protective side in Ernst. He tries not to frown as the other man scrutinizes her but Ilse doesn't even notice.

 **Your skirt is so cute,** Ilse signed to Wendla, ignoring Melchior completely. She started chatting with her. At first, Wendla, too, was a little off-put by Ilse's appearance. At first glance, Wendla seems like the perfect picture of a feminine beauty, with a cute pink skirt and a button-up top, white stockings and black flats. She was cute yet conservative and somewhat innocent-looking. But she is a lot more fierce when coaxed out of her shell.

 **...I really don't think so! I think it is possible to impact the meat industry,** Wendla argued passionately, and Melchior moved to speak to someone else, clearly disinterested in discussing veganism and its pros and cons. He moved to speak to a man named Georg, one of Hanschen's guests.

 **Oh, so you're one of _those_ vegans, ** Ilse goaded her, and Wendla took the bait.

She put her hands on her hips, jutting her chin out defensively.  **So what if I am** **?**

 **Aren't you a vegan too?** Ernst asked Ilse, who gave a shit-eating grin to a scandalized Wendla.

 **You just wanted to argue with me,** Wendla accused.

Ilse shrugged.  **I wanted to see if you could win.**

 **Oh, I'll win, alright,** Wendla signed with a new fire.  **You're on!**

Ilse grinned at Moritz before diving into another passionate argument, clearly amused and intrigued by her. Ernst was pleased to find someone who was up to Ilse's speed on friendly but passionate arguments about things they probably both agreed on. Still, in the back of his head he was worried. Since realizing she was a lesbian, Ilse had only ever been interested in unattainable women, ones with boyfriends or were only looking to satisfy their fix for a girl-on-girl fling. It was a type Ernst related to in middle school, when he first knew he was gay.

The flash of lights in the entryway told Ernst that someone was trying to get in. His heart began to race as he squeezed through the crowd, opening the door with as much coolness as he could muster. He was surprised to see with Hanschen a guy with a mohawk, his muscles thick and tattoos lining his arms.

 **Hello,** Hanschen grimaced at the other guy.  **This is my brother, D-E-D-R-I-C-K.**

 **What's your name sign?** Ernst asked politely, surprised to find someone so different was related to Hanschen. Hanschen was a standard beauty, while this guy was rugged and intimidating.

Dedrick showed the sign for mohawk, following his hawk across his head with an open 5-hand. Easy enough to remember. Dedrick grinned, a twinkle in his eye,  **You must be Ernst,** he uses Ernst's name sign. He saluted to Hanschen before diving into the party, his eyes already set on a redhead sitting on the couch, who Ernst was pretty sure was Otto's little sister, Rudella.

 **Okay, he seems at home,** Ernst joked, and Hanschen stepped inside, handing him a bottle of champagne.  **Thanks. You didn't have to bring this.**

 **You're hosting the party. I had to bring something,** Hanschen insisted. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings and all the people chatting and moving around. His eyes returned to Ernst's and Ernst tried to ignore the thumping in his chest. He was a grown man for God's sake, what was he doing getting all starry-eyed for.  **I like your place. You said you have roommates?**

Ernst nodded, pointing out Greta, who was in the corner making out with her boyfriend and then Ilse who was watching Wendla sign with bright attentative eyes.  **We've had this apartment for a couple years now. Not exactly the hipster area that you live in, but it works for us.**

 **Way to call me out,** Hanschen smirked.  **It feels more like a home.**

 **Cheesy,** Ernst scrunched up his nose and Hanschen laughed. 

 **You're not giving me a break today,** Hanschen pretended to huff.

Ernst shook his head.  **Nope. Not today.** They both grinned at each other before looking away, not sure how to continue the conversation. Their partnership was still new; they'd been texting since they met, and Ernst edited the pictures, sending them to Hanschen and deliberating on what to use before they posted them. It went over well; Ernst didn't want to brag, but he loved the photos far more than the pictures Hanschen usually had on his instagram. Still, they hadn't done a whole lot besides discussing business. It was...awkward.

 **Make yourself at home. I need to go grab my camera,** Ernst tried to let him off the hook, moving towards his bedroom door, but Hanschen touched his elbow. 

 **Could you take some of me alone, without the crowd, first?** Hanschen asked, his eyebrows up. Hanschen had perfectly thick eyebrows without a hair out of place. He smelled good, too, Ernst realized. He was spicy, manly-smelling, and he was pleased to find the model smelled as good as he looked.  _I bet he tastes good, too,_ Ernst thought, before frantically dispelling it in his head. He needed to stop. They were partners after all.

 **Sure.** Ernst shrugged noncommittally. Hanschen followed behind him, a little too close for comfort. Ernst's room was covered wall to wall with photos, not all of them his own. In fact, most were pieces he bought or traded with other artists for. His desk was against the wall by his closet and his bed was sloppily made. It was pretty normal, he would say, but he could only imagine Hanschen's room: tidy, minimalist, looks like it was barely touched. He grabbed his camera off of his desk, turning it on Hanschen.

Without even blinking an eye, Hanschen posed, his eyes finding the camera, his face trained in expression. It was a delight to watch, and Ernst was overcome again by how natural a beauty Hanschen was. He reached for the blinds, to shed more light on the man, even as the sun was setting. Hanschen, fell onto Ernst's bed, starting to unbutton his shirt.

 **What are you doing?** Ernst asked frantically, glancing at the closed door.

 **Wouldn't this make a good shot?** Hanschen smirked, his shirt now open, his body relaxed on Ernst's bed. He tussled his own hair, giving bedroom eyes as he looked at the camera. All Ernst could think about was how long it had been since a man had been in his bed.

Ernst began clicking away. He tried to re-gain his confidence, focusing on the shot and not the man in front of him.  **These are very sexy. If that's the look we want, I have some suggestions.**

Hanschen raised his eyebrows in response. Ernst shoved his chin up, before nodding confidently. He moved up to the bed, hovering over Hanschen, before reaching down and popping open the button on his jeans. Hanschen's eyes tracked him, not betraying his thoughts in the slightest. Ernst set down the camera, running his hands through Hanschen's hair.

 **What are you doing?** Hanschen wondered, althought it barely seemed like a question. The model seemed to always sign as if he knew the answer he was expecting before it was said. It was unnerving but Ernst responded anyway.

 **If you do it yourself, it just looks like bedhead,** Ernst explained, and Hanschen grinned as he finished his thought.  **When I do it, it looks more like sex hair.**

Hanschen caught Ernst's hand, staring at him, seeming to probe him with his eyes. Ernst's brain blanked at his touch, and he was frozen in spot, his eyes locked with the man below him, and then Ernst's eyes accidentally dropped to his lips. Suddenly, they were kissing, and Hanschen was pulling him onto the bed, breath mingling with his as they both gave into the sexual tension. Ernst's was kneeling between Hanschen's legs, being pulled down by gravity and Hanschen's hands until they were making out. On top of his bed. Hanschen was beneath him. Hanschen, his partner.

Ernst stopped, retreating slightly and Hanschen shook his head.  **You're overthinking. Stop. Process it normally. Are you attracted to me?**

 **Yes,** Ernst admitted. 

**But you're worried about our professional relationship.**

**Yes,** Ernst repeated, his eyes drinking in the calmness of Hanschen's look. 

 **It makes you want to stop what this is...between us?** Hanschen asked. Ernst was bewildered for a second by the confidence of that statement. It wasn't something Ernst had the balls to ask. He didn't want to stop and would hate to watch Hanschen say he wanted their relationship to end.

**I...don't know.**

**That's a lie,** Hanschen shook his head again. His eyes focused on Ernst's, his face serious for once. He was so incredibly beautiful and with the abuse Ernst had faced in the past, from his father and from that  _man_ , he couldn't help but feel embarrassingly grateful that Hanschen was so straight-forward. There would be no question where Ernst stood with him, and Ernst wanted the same in return. He couldn't think of a way to be with Hanschen in the way he wanted to in a way that would work. Friends with benefits, dating, just friends, just sexual partners? What would work in a way that wouldn't be inconvenient? Hanschen seemed to read Ernst's mind. **You don't have to think about what I want. What do _you_ want?**

Ernst stopped overthinking it and answered honestly.  __ **I want you.**

 


End file.
